Love In His Eyes
by Queen Nightingale
Summary: There is a tall young brown-haired boy staring at you with love in his eyes. JPLE One-Shot.


**LOVE IN HIS EYES**

Author: Queen Nightingale

Pairing: JPLE

Rating: M (Sexual Suggestions and Language)

* * *

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories,  
that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now  
to say that two beings have fallen in love  
because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins,  
and in this way only.  
- Victor Hugo

* * *

He is standing in a corner at the party, leaning against the wall, all dark hair and lean muscle and light hazel eyes. You are daintily balancing your red Dixie cup on your knee, Marlene's hand braiding your hair, the other girls sprawled around you as if you were their Queen.

"He's staring at you again."

Marlene's voice is low, dark, sensual, and when you nervously glance upwards, your heart a sudden, staccato-ed grenade, he is being punched in the shoulder by Sirius, his gaze quickly flying away from you.

"No." You reply, quietly.

"He was, I saw it," Marlene continues, pulling a strand of your fire hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "My little Lily, he was staring at you."

You feel something soft and gentle on your cheek, a slight pressure, and you can't help but let the shocked gasp out of your lungs, exploding like angry bats.

"What are you doing?" The other girls have gone quiet, and are looking at the pair of you with silent longing eyes.

"Trust me," she replies, her voice a quiet echo in your ear.

You swallow hard and feel her lips drag over your throat.

"Boys do not understand women," her voice continues, disembodied, "Sometimes you have to shock them out of their world. Now look up."

You glance up. James is staring straight at you, his jaw slightly open. Your heart starts pounding, your head starts pounding, the room starts pounding. There is nobody in the world, and his eyes are locked on yours, and you can't breathe, and Marlene's hand is trailing down your arm, and he isn't moving, and you aren't moving, and there is a _delicious_ feeling creeping up your spine, and your heart is speeding down the freeway but there are no cops to stop you there are no cops to stop you there is nothing but you and James and

You wake up, gasping, with the blues playing in your sheets.

* * *

"Lily? Lily?!"

You clutch your books closer to your body and stutter down the hall, your feet picking up speed as you try to carry on moving.

"Lily?!"

Something a lot like reality slams into your back and you fall to the ground, your papers flying everywhere, an expression of outrage plastered to your face when you turn around in anger.

"What are you doing, Remus?"

He quickly bends to the ground and helps you collect your papers, you trying to shoo him away in anger. Before you know it he is literally pulling you to your feet, a sheepish grin on his face, as you scowl back.

"What are you doing?" You repeat, still outraged, dusting off your skirt and starting to walk forward, "I have a free period and I need to do some work for Charms."

"Lily …"

"I don't have time to talk, Remus."

You take off down the hallway again, literally speed walking away from the blond boy, whose hand is raking through his hair in a confused manner. Then there are footsteps beside you, and your elbow is grabbed, and you are tugged back to face him.

"What is wrong with you?" You blurt out angrily, a couple students passing by giving you strange looks, "I said I have work to do!"

"He's really sorry, you know."

You seethe. There is something inside of you that feels like a bird with a broken wing. Remus' eyes are too open, too candid, and you want to rip them off of his face.

Instead, you grit your teeth, and start walking forward again.

"Lily. Lily!"

* * *

You can't help it, it's not your fault, you always had a bit of a crush on him but what girl didn't with his mop of frizzy brown hair and wide grin and hands that felt like home. You thought he was _different_ though, when he smiled you through your Transfiguration homework and teased you quietly in the corner of class, you thought he was _gentle_ and _good_ and a _giant_ and in your mind he just spoke out in class and played all those pranks because Sirius put him up to it.

You're standing in front of the Divination classroom, holding the Tarot cards in your left hand, nervously clenching your right fist. Half of the classroom is asleep, the Hufflepuffs in the back row playing Magic Frogs, and the only person who is meeting your eyes is _him him him _and you feel like crying.

Your throat catches everytime your gaze passes over him.

"And so that – that is the prophecy that I could – could find out from the general idea of the 14th century Franciscan monks – monks – monks."

When you finally stutter through your presentation, you angrily throw down the cards on the table and storm up to your seat, your heart in your throat and a feeling of sadness ripping at the corner of your eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Evans," the professor is saying, but everything is fading out, and you can feel someone staring at you, but instead you are clenching your fists and staring at the desk, just stare at the desk, don't stare over, don't glance over, don't don't

And then you are angrily twisting your neck like a songbird in heat and his eyes meet yours and there is such sorrow there that something is crawling up your neck and you are lifting your hand to your mouth because there is an ache in your bones that you cannot describe and trying to stifle the sob that is being born deep inside your muscles.

"Miss Evans, Miss Evans?"

Suddenly you have stood up and muttered something about the lavatory and you sprint out of the classroom, Dorcas lifting her head in mild surprise from her slumber, and then you are outside in the hallway and you are panting and before you know it there are tears running down your face.

* * *

"See, it's not that hard!"

You are stunned, glancing at the hat that you have made out of a pin, almost too scared to touch it. He's smiling at you softly, and something is quivering in your insides, and you don't know what to say.

"Look, Lily, you can touch it if you like! See, Transfiguration isn't that bad!"

He stands up and crosses the room to where the hat landed after the spell hit it, picking it up with a wide grin.

"You were awesome!"

You can feel a blush moving on an elevator up your spine, and you let loose a small smile.

"Thanks."

"We should go celebrate! How about I take you to the kitchens for a treat!"

You look at him with a wide naïve grin on your face.

"But we're in the library after hours! The kitchens are definitely closed by now," you chew your lip and reply, fingering your wand and looking down, "They're closed! What are you talking about."

"What if I told you that I could take you there?"

You like the way that he keeps saying _take you there_ and you just completed the spell and you are so happy and golden and sparkling that you lift your eyes with a smile in them and he is grinning back at you and you like the way he acts so gentle around you and you like the way he is reaching his hand out and you like the way it is wrapping around yours and you feel like you've eaten a bar of solid sunshine.

"Okay."

And now you are on a magic carpet ride and you are tilting your head back and euphoria is trickling out of your lungs. And he is so _random_ and he is so _magnificent_ and he is so _bold_ and he is tugging you down the maze of hallways and you are stumbling trying to catch up and then all that's left is laughter.

* * *

"James?"

You knew there was something wrong when McGonagall's lips were tight and she was saying something about a half-blood being raped and James was sitting in front of you in the Great Hall and then he was hurling his bowl at the table of Slytherins and they were ducking and a couple were starting to stand up and Sirius was holding him back and he was roaring.

"James?"

Your voice is low, and you knock on the door to the dormitory, and gently push open the door, and James is sitting amongst all of the male-reeking-clutter, shaking, his head in his hands.

"James?"

He looks up, and his eyes meet yours. Maybe you look frightened but suddenly something breaks in his eyes and he puts his head down again, raking his fingers through his hair.

"Why are you here, Lily," his voice is gentle but slightly shaky, "I'm sorry about that in the Great Hall, I didn't mean to scare you."

There is a feeling filling up your throat like the gasoline of a Muggle car, and you don't know why but you sit down on the bed beside him and press your open palm to his back.

"It's okay. You didn't scare me."

You try not to cry so you look up at the stucco ceiling instead.

You feel something wrap around your right hand, and you look down and his hand is curling around yours. You press your lips to his shoulder and then lean your head in the crook of his neck, your other arm still on his back.

"You are the most beautiful girl in the world, you know."

Your eyes are closed. You hear his words. His voice is deep, and there is emotion running under it that you want to splash your soul in.

"Only when I'm with you," you whisper back.

* * *

It's the memories that take root in your body and rot away your upper layer of skin, revealing the painfully pink undertones and raw flesh that you so desire to cover up. Sometimes you wonder if _boys_ ever feel this way, if _boys_ as heart-stopping and bold and crazy as _James Potter_ ever sit in the shower at two in the afternoon and cry their eyes out.

You care too much, and it eats you from the outside in.

You can't forget the warmth of his side or the sound of his breathing or the way his hands trailed up your side.

You can't forget the feeling of him pulling back your hair and you can't forget running your hands through _his_ hair and you can't forget feeling his heartbeat through his shirt.

You can't forget what a magnificent heartbeat it was.

You wish that his heartbeat was just a heartbeat, just a clod of red-black-blue flesh that pulses for some ungodly reason, you wish that his heartbeat was the heartbeat of an ant or a worm or a bird or even a fucking stingray; but his heartbeat was the heartbeat of a lion. Is the heartbeat of a bear. Tasted like the heartbeat of a tiger. Because that is what happens when you fall in love with a king.

So now you sit up at two in the morning on your lonely bed and burn, burn, transform into a phoenix a cloud of angry sparks the pain the hurt a firework show – but the match, the _boy_ that started it all, is gone.

* * *

"Lily, Lily."

You look up at his gentle face and smile, languidly stretching in his arms.

"Look at this right now."

It is an abandoned hallway, and you look around, and then your eyes move up towards the boy whose hands are on your waist, a delicate smile shimmering in front of you.

"I see." You reply, quietly.

Suddenly he is stepping back, and there is a hard pulse in your heart, and you are looking at him curiously.

"Look, Lily."

The way he says your name makes something shiver deep within you.

"What do you see?" His voice is deep, and happy but sad.

You look around again. It is an abandoned hallway, with James standing about two feet in front of you. You ignore the hallway. You focus on the _boy_. You tilt your head.

"What are you thinking?" There is a sound of nerves in his young voice, and suddenly you feel something burning the tops of your lungs.

He's standing there, a gentle smile on his face, all lanky bones and broad shoulders and saggy Hogwarts uniform. And his hair is mussed up, and his glasses are slightly sliding down his nose, and there are tears starting in the corners of your eyes, because you have never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

"Lily?"

You look at him again and your eyes are filling up, and you start to breathe hard, and you tilt your head to the side, and he is looking at you with trepidation, but you want to memorize his every aspect, the exact angle of his cheekbones, the way his shirt curves, the staggeringly beautiful razor-blade cut of his upper arm muscles. The fact that there is a tall young brown-haired boy staring at you with love in his eyes.

"Lily?!"

Suddenly there are tears on your face, and he is coming towards you, but you place your hands on his face and just stare at him for a couple of seconds. The moment is gone. The James of that moment is gone and it is the most devastating thing in the world but you are still holding him and there is a tall, young, brown-haired boy staring at you with love in his eyes. You want to weep because time, time is the cruelest device you've ever known.

"You're perfect," you say quietly, sadness rolling out of your bones, "You're perfect. I've never seen something so perfect in my life."

There is a tall, young, brown-haired boy staring at you with love in his eyes. There is a tall, young, brown-haired boy staring at you with love in his eyes that nobody else will ever know, and you are blessed, and this moment is now gone, and he kisses your forehead and you sob from sober happiness and press your hands against his lion-heart chest.

* * *

You walk back into the Divination classroom after a couple of seconds and sit down beside Dorcas, who is chewing on the end of her quill and looks at you with concern and then goes back to chewing on the end of her quill.

You feel him glancing over at you again, but he is no longer the tall young brown-haired boy who stared at you with love in his eyes, and you look down and try to not mourn his death.

You are sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, and it is late at night, and you are running your fingers over an old book, and there is something loud in the corner, and you turn around and he is standing at the bottom of the staircase to the boy's dormitories.

You freeze. There is something like pain prickling the bottom of your feet. You turn away with a sudden shudder and focus on your hands not shaking.

You feel his feet move towards you – thump, thump, thump, thump.

You stare into the fire. You pretend that he isn't there.

"Lily."

The way he says your name is just _too much_, and you glance at the floor and tears are welling up in your eyes.

You don't say anything.

"Lily."

His pronunciation makes you shudder, and suddenly you turn around and stand up and look at him, and there is redness and tears in his eyes, and you feel something shatter within your chest because he is a tall young brown-haired boy staring at you with love in his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," you cry out, and you glance away, and your hands are shaking, and you look up and he is crying and it is so horrible please make it stop.

"Why would you do that to him, James?" You are sobbing and your voice is cracking on his name, and just saying the word _James_ is like a dagger to your heart and there are suddenly too many tears racing down your face, "Why would you do that? That was so mean. You were just so mean. That isn't the James that I know, he was my _best friend_ James."

"I am so sorry, please, I am so sorry, I would take it back if I could - "

And then there is a tall young brown-haired boy reaching over to you with love in his eyes and you are buried in his chest and his tears are on your hair and you are sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.

"Lily," he whispers, "Lily, I fucking love you. I fucking love you, Lily, I am so sorry, I am so sorry. Never leave me again like that, I will never do anything like that again, I fucking _love you_" His voice breaks "Lily, I do."

You feel yourself nodding through the sadness and you look up.

And there is a tall young brown-haired boy staring at a short young red-haired girl with love so deep in his eyes that she gasps, and cries, and nods, and they stand alone in the Gryffindor Common Room late at night one strange spring day, and the moment is gone before it even existed.


End file.
